


You, Me, and a Shiv Makes Three

by SanguineParadox



Category: Pitch Black (2000)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanguineParadox/pseuds/SanguineParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s funny how little pressure it takes to part the skin, provided your blade is sharp enough. There’s hardly any pain either. For the first few cuts, at least."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, Me, and a Shiv Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> Dark and fucked up, just how I like these boys.
> 
> (Originally published on LJ with the username Dubh_ceol)

It’s funny how little pressure it takes to part the skin, provided your blade is sharp enough. There’s hardly any pain either. For the first few cuts, at least. Johns, of course, is made of sterner stuff than most. Don’t get to be a big badass merc otherwise. But Riddick knows he’ll beg eventually, and getting there is half the fun.

The next cut is just above Johns’ nipple, and that warrants a gasp. The sound is repeated, sharper, when Riddick leans in to lick away the blood.

“Bastard.” Johns growls, with enough bravado and hopes of being rescued to keep him defiant. Won’t last. Never does.

“Quite possibly.” Riddick agrees. “Never did know who my parents were. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Johns is spared thinking up a witty reply by Riddick kissing him, hard. He flinches as his lip splits, and all he can taste is blood and Riddick. He tries to pull away, but Riddick’s free hand is cupping the back of his head as the other draws the shiv across his ribs. The blade slips a bit deeper, and Johns gasps into the kiss as Riddick purrs. He pulls away only after Johns is lightheaded from lack of air.

Laughing softly, Riddick licks the red from his lips.

“You taste good, Johns. Now, I know I’ve said that before, but this time I mean it. And this time there’s no guards to take me away once we’re done here.”

“Not as though that ever stopped you from playing rough before.” Johns gritted out as Riddick tongued a deeper cut.

“Don’t recall you ever stopped coming back.” Riddick pointed out. “Now, I may be a sick fuck who likes to play rough, but there’s something I keep wondering. What does that make you? I’m curious, Johns.”

There’s no answer, and Riddick sighs. He’s serious in his art now, and working with cold and calculated detachment. 

Cut, pause, cut. 

A few breaks while he licks blood away to better appreciate the lines running across Johns’ body. 

Cut, pause, cut.

Cut.

Then finally,

“Please.”

That’s all Johns says, and Riddick smiles.

He’s still smiling as he slides his shiv into Johns’ body, hitting the sweet spot perfectly. No fuck-ups this time.


End file.
